


Mexican Hot Chocolate

by feralis



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Smallville, Superman (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Torture, M/M, Mixed Canon, Trauma, Violence, full of angst but not forever, gratuitous fluff, recovery (kind of)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2019-11-21 08:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18139697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feralis/pseuds/feralis
Summary: Lex Luthor had always assumed he'd die at the hands of a hero or a villain, someone with a laser gun and good aim. Instead, he's captured on his way to a routine meeting, tortured to try and convince him to give up information to his captors. But it's been a week, and Lex refuses to give up what he knows. He's Lex Luthor--he doesn't give up. So help him, these secrets will be buried with him if they have to be.





	1. Location Unknown

**Author's Note:**

> Lex has been held captive for days, and he doesn't believe help is coming. Content warning: Depictions of violence, torture.

He didn't know how long they’d had him. They took him when he was on his way to a meeting, and it seemed so unimportant now (what was it for?); Hope and Mercy had both been incapacitated, but he had faith in their ability to survive. Or, he did. He thought he did. They were supposed to be alive, right? Amazons didn't let a few gunshots kill them. Were they hit? He remembered blood. But if they were alive, his muddled mind reasoned, why hadn't they found him by now?

Maybe Lex had been gone for less time than he thought. His internal clock had started to break down after the first day they’d kept him awake, and by this point it was so off the rails he didn't even bother. He remembered one of the men leaving at some point, probably to restock on supplies as the interrogation took longer than planned, but he didn't know how long it had been since he'd returned. There wasn't any day or night, wake or sleep, only brief bouts of unconsciousness his body forced on him to prevent itself from complete failure.

Failure. Ha. They’d certainly failed to get anything meaningful from him, and they weren't happy. But Lex would’ve rather damned himself than give them what they wanted. The bastards didn't even know what power they would have, they just wanted, they wanted, Lex would have laughed if his face didn't hurt so much, they wanted his _business_! The only regular part of him left, was why he was in this cold, damp room, slumped useless against a concrete wall. Everything over the years--the superheroes, the supervillains, his various plots--and his fucking stock market day job was the reason he was going to die here.

Lex’s thought process stuttered to a halt. Again. Was he going to die here? At first he thought he would be fine. He'd gotten out of worse situations, and after all, a billionaire community leader of his standing could hardly exist without a little kidnapping threat once in a while. But no one had come for him, and as they kept him awake, despite his best efforts the instinctual fear started to bleed through his defenses.

And the walls were closing in.

* * *

Lex couldn't remember falling unconscious, but he awoke to footsteps and a door slamming after them. Great. He tensed on instinct. They never left without trying for information, and he never gave it to them. Cold hands pulled him up from the ground and he flinched as they prodded him forward. _These thugs,_ said a voice in the back of his mind, _lack finesse_.

They manhandled him back into a standing position and moved him toward the door. That was new.

“Luthor.”

He didn't answer, and was yanked up by the neck and kicked forward for his trouble.

“Luthor!” bellowed one of the men. “If you wanna be so goddamn stubborn, we can play that game, too!” He pulled Lex up only a few inches from his face, and he snarled as the man spoke. God, he was _the_ walking, unfortunately talking, case of halitosis. “Look, you little rat bastard,” the man continued, “nobody said you were gonna leave here in one piece. You’ve played us for too long! Move it!”

Lex sneered, trying to focus through the nausea, but couldn’t gather his thoughts to form an answer before they pushed him into the other room. He looked around, trying to process the new surroundings, and as his eyes fell on the large machine in the middle, he felt a numb horror slip through him, moving through his veins like ice water. _Leaving in one piece._ It was large machine, cold iron, with a pointed metal rectangle connected to a heavy metal cylinder and lever.

_Leave in… One piece._ It was easy to put a lot of power in a machine that large. Under the metal block was a triangle groove, as if if it were forced downwards, the point would be sunk all the way through.

He closed his eyes. This was supposed to be the part where he started panicking, but instead he simply felt like he was floating, watching it all. Someone was babbling-- _pathetic_ \--and it wasn’t supposed to go this far, it never had before, there was always a last-second rescue by some hero, but they really weren’t coming this time. Maybe he’d finally gone too far. Maybe they’d finally decided to sacrifice him for the world. And he knew he would’ve felt vindicated in the inevitable crumbling of their morality, but he was being pulled forward by his left arm and the buzzing in his ears was louder than his thoughts.

* * *

* * *

Voices swam into Lex’s consciousness, and he tried to pull himself out of whatever fog that was surrounding his mind. Screaming. Was that him? ...No, his throat was raw, but their voices didn't sound like his. He turned to his left, eyes avoiding his arm by subconscious command. Light--natural light--was streaming in from a hole in the wall, almost like… almost like a superhero rang the doorbell and nobody answered.

Lex sat up straight, immediately regretting it when his vision went out. Trying to balance himself with his hands, he realized his mistake when he fell to his left, involuntarily crying out when his white-cloth stained red wrist hit the ground instead of where his hand should have been. Fuck, fuckfuckfuck goddamnit all to hell but that hurt, and he didn't want to look down at where his hand used to be but he hadn't gotten this far in his life through cowardice so he forced himself to observe the damage. Completely severed. Maybe it could be reattached, but the pressure downward had been slow and horrible--the tissue could well have been too damaged to fix. The dirt probably didn't help.

Feeling a brush of air against his cheek, he turned to see the man of steel watching him with… concern? as his cape whipped around him from the wind and his super-speed arrival.

“Lex…” the man said, his face pitying. Lex stared at the alien, the man who was the face of rescue, and waited to feel relief at his presence but only felt shame sink through his body. He hated that expression, like he was some pathetic child, too weak to save himself from this hell. Kal trailed off, seeming unsure of himself. Yes, see? A part of him wanted to shout. _Your untouchable throne, this is what happens to humans, I see how it disgusts you--_

He flinched when a hand came down on his shoulders, before forcing himself to relax and glaring at Superman’s frown before trying to shrug his hand off his shoulder.Neither worked, and no wonder; his face was almost certainly covered in dried blood and bruises, and if his memory served him correct, tear tracks too. Not an intimidating image, and he felt too weak to shake off a butterfly, let alone the alien.

“Lex, I’m--” Ugh, big blue was talking again. Didn't he have other things to be doing? “I'm sorry, I should've been here sooner, they had this place cloaked, I swear if I knew where yo--” and his voice cracked. Lex refocused his vision, only to see him staring at his left wrist in horror. “Oh my god. Lex. No. Don't tell me they did this to you.”

Lex somehow managed a dry laugh, and closed his eyes. “Alright, Kal. I'll keep my mouth shut.”

Superman seemed to frown harder. “You know that’s not what I meant.” He moved his arm again, seeming to try and support Lex from his slumped over position on the ground.

Some miserable part of Lex wanted to lean in closer, and he didn’t feel like fighting himself, but he wasn’t going to give in without the last word. “Don’t you have somewhere else you’re supposed to go?” He asked.

“Diana and GL are keeping them occupied. We have a perimeter over the whole place; no one’s going to get away.”

“Oh.”

Despite himself, Lex felt himself leaning against the other man. His past qualms seemed worthless while the sounds of fighting carried on in the distance; Kal-El was an alien, yes, but he had never truly hurt Lex, and all he wanted to do was sleep.

Feeling himself drift off to sleep, he startled again when he felt a hand touch his face, as if to get his attention.

“Lex. Please don’t fall asleep.”

  
“Easier said than done.” He might’ve slurred his words a little.

  
“Once I get an all-clear, I’m flying you to the Watchtower medbay. You…” Kal trailed off, looking at his face in that same pitying expression. “You probably have a concussion, or worse, and I don’t want anything to happen to you before I can bring you there, okay?”

Lex snorted. “No need to baby me. And the Watchtower? Really? You know, after I take over the entire League, maybe you’ll have second thoughts.” Wow. Was he really making jokes with his arch-nemesis? Maybe he really was too far gone.

Superman weakly laughed. “From your hospital bed? Yeah.” He paused, seeming to think about his next words. “We can take you to a regular hospital if you want us to, but the technology’s best at the Watchtower, and anyways…” Lex felt him look away. “I should have been here sooner. This is the least I should be doing for you. I--”

  
Lex cut him off before he could apologize again. “You don’t have to pity me so much, you know. Yes, Kal, this is all your fault. And while you’re at it, why didn’t you save me from my father, too? Not everything in the world is your damn fault.”

Despite his intentions otherwise, Kal-El flinched at his words. “Oh, get over yourself, you overgrown boy scout!” Said Lex, weakly smacking the alien’s arm with his right hand, not thinking about his other one. “You didn’t know then, and you didn’t know now. Not even I’ve managed to invent a time machine.” Superman still didn’t look convinced, so Lex just sighed and let the matter drop, saving his eye-roll for when they were face-to-face. He needed better taste in super-nemeses, if this was how they were going to act about every damn thing.

He sighed, trying to fight off the encroaching darkness. “Fine. If it will make you feel better, I’ll stay at the Watchtower a few nights. Anyways, if you move fast enough, the _Inquisitor_ won't get a picture of me until I look like regular shit.”

“Right. No reporters.”

Lex leaned against Superman and tried to fight against the pull of unconsciousness as his nemesis muttered into what Lex assumed was his comm, telling his teammates he was returning to the Watchtower and bringing Lex with him. Other than a quick justification (‘he’s in pretty rough shape’) he didn't comment on Lex’s condition, for which he was grateful. He didn't need to be embarrassed even further.

Superman picked him up, trying not to injure him again. Of course he failed, but Lex stifled a wince and didn't comment. They finally started the flight away from the compound, and as Lex looked down at receding concrete complex a week ago he would've completely overlooked, he finally started to believe that the worst of it was behind him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Discord](https://discord.gg/5Gmr8Uw) | [Tumblr](https://lexluthot.tumblr.com/)


	2. Watchtower Med Bay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lex wakes up in the Watchtower, walks around, and learns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, everyone! I actually ended up re-writing this chapter, just to get it back on track.

Lex woke up to grey walls and unfamiliar beeping, and only his extensive knowledge of ER rooms and the memories of blue arms and blue sky prevented him from jolting upright from the panic that wanted to claw its way out of his eyes. _Undignified,_ chided a voice, as he tried to figure out where he was. He was free, he told himself, he remembered breathing the open air as he saw the grey concrete disappear below him. Unless his rescue was a sham, another tool to try and break him, but _no!_  cried another part of him, the Justice League wouldn’t work for those bastards, they weren't on anyone’s payroll. He’d offered his own sum of money, if only to make sure. They passed with flying colors.

If the League had truly saved him, that would mean he was at… the Watchtower. Of all places. The part of him that analyzed the electric guns even as the stone-faced men prepared them for their use was ecstatic--Lex had managed to squirrel his way into many a League base, but he’d never been in their true base of operations until now. His rational side, the part that detachedly observed his chances as the days wore on, pointed out that this couldn’t be a good sign.

Memories drifted back. Screaming--so that was why his throat felt so raw. There was an empty patch, however, that he couldn’t seem to grasp, but his left wrist _hurt_ and he didn’t want to look but he refused to be a _coward_. He’d broken himself of that flaw, a frail kid refusing to hide from cruel fists and crueler fathers.

Pulling the white cotton covers away, Lex flinched away when he saw the gauze-covered stump. The reality of the matter didn’t seem to register. Was he processing this poorly if he wasn’t processing it at all? Obviously there would be some trouble if he needed to do something two-handed, but that should be resolved once he got his scientists on a prosthetic job. And he only hired the best; putting some tactical lasers into the fingers and palm could help him in the labs, could prevent this from happening again…

Lex didn’t want to think about an “again.” He didn’t want to think about it at all. But he didn’t have the option to forget it, memories burned into his mind and body. He hurt all over, and exhaustion seemed to make him its home. Here he was, laying in the Lion’s den, and he only wanted to sleep.

 

* * *

 

This time, Lex’s luck ran out as he awoke in a sudden panic. Forcing himself to calm down and assess the situation (pain down but present, similar or same location), he looked to the left and had to double down on his efforts when he saw the stranger looking at the equipment. White clothes--either a nurse or a doctor. Unless the Justice League really were a bunch of fools, her threat was minimal, but his brain refused to be anything but wary.

She finally seemed to notice he was awake. “Ah, Mr. Luthor,” she said, “it’s good to see you with us again.” Lex tried to push himself up. Well, that certainly answered the question if the League actually knew who was in their base or if they were all terminally faceblind.

“No, don’t do that,” said the nurse as Lex sat up to look at her. “You’ll disrupt the IV.” She flipped through her notes again. “Your levels seem to be up to par, so we can disconnect that, for now. I simply wanted to wait for you to regain consciousness so the readings were more accurate.

Lex internally flinched as the doctor prepared for the IV to be removed, but felt unnaturally calm as she began the physical process. Waiting until the bandages were back around his right elbow, he checked her nametag and said “Doctor Miller.” She looked at him in the eyes.

_Get out of my head,_ he silently voiced, scythe thin, intentful.

She looked away, and the artificial calm in his mind disappeared with it. “Precautions,” she said.

“Of course. Now that that’s over with, I’d like to know my results.”

She finally returned to the clipboard. A complete amputation of his left hand, irreparable with the severed material--apparently, crushed bone and tissue wasn’t very good at facilitating reattachment. Extensive injuries across his body, including lacerations, electric burns, and good old blunt force trauma.

“...but all things considered, Mr. Luthor, you shouldn’t be alive,” the doctor continued. Lex frowned. “I ran some calculations, and the force with which some of these injuries were applied might have allowed someone to survive if they were isolated incidents, but everything, together… There’s nothing conclusive, and we won’t be running any further tests without your written consent, but you might want to consider consulting any of your previous doctors.”

“And that’s all, Dr. Miller?”

“Ah, yes. Speaking of, you should be getting some rest--your body’s experiencing severe sleep deprivation, and sleep is beneficial for the healing process. I still have to write your report. I’m assuming you would like me to omit the speculation about your resistance to injury?” Lex nodded. “Alright. The bathroom’s the first left out of the hallway.”

Leaving Lex a pager, she left the room, silently closing the door. The lights dimmed. 

 

* * *

 

Despite himself, he fell asleep, only to wake up again with warning bells going off behind his conscious self. Looking around for what was causing it _this_ time, Lex noted that he had been asleep for two hours, and that there was a dark corner that used to be brighter. He turned away from it for a second and nearly jumped out of his skin when the shadow moved, revealing… the fucking Batman. Lex cursed to himself. A psychic doctor and Batman in his hospital room? He didn’t need a third incident to know he wasn’t trusted.

He glared at the animate shadow. The shadow stared back.

“I’m not going to steal the nice china, you know,” said Lex. Bruce didn’t respond, only continuing to watchfully stare, and suddenly Lex only wanted to go back to Metropolis. He was injured in enemy territory, being stared down by a man in a batsuit who planned for every evil. The League wouldn’t hurt him, probably wouldn’t, but Lex felt on edge and only wanted the safety of solitude and steel-walled Metropolis skyscrapers. And better security, god dammit.

Bothered by his cowardice, however secret, Lex scowled, studied the disconnected IVs, and pushed himself off of the hospital bed and towards the bathroom. He’d suddenly felt that one more second trapped under cotton covers was unbearable. “Don’t follow me,” he drawled. The Batman stayed in his corner. When faced with corners, Lex refused to stay in his. He passed the bathroom and kept walking.

 

* * *

 

As Lex quietly stepped through the hallways, he couldn’t stop thinking about the doctor’s information. He needed time to himself, time where he wasn’t in the same room as someone who tried to psychically sedate him. Although she (hopefully) was held to the same “standards” as the more combative members of the League and the very real standards of the medical community, Lex felt unsettled.

Fortunately, she didn’t spring his more important defenses, or the League would have a war on their hands. Lex had always felt wary of telepaths the idea of someone else seeing his thoughts filled him with a deep unease. While Lex would never admit to it, for this reason he tried to avoid the Martian Manhunter, and for the strange sorrow the strange Martian seemed to pull from him. He’d never been able to understand why.

But his torture… how had he survived? Miller had talked about increased resistance, which was probably why he was able to walk in the first place, but that didn’t stop everything from hurting like hell, so clearly he wasn’t that resistant. Not to mention the blood he remembered. And, ha, they’d certainly been able to break through bone when they had to, and Lex forced himself not to look down at his left stump in disgust.

Was he a meta? Lex narrowed his eyes. He’d never been in any dangerous lab accidents--that was what he hired other people for. Childhood--fuck, Lex hardly wanted to think about the horrors of his home life in Smallville, but the town always seemed a bit weird, and he’d been able to procure a lot of his Kryptonite collection from it. For some reason. A town full of mutagenic rocks… meant a town full of mutants. Maybe he was one of them, otherworldly radiation absorbed by a child who wanted to avoid the pain of a broken wrist at the hands of his father.

Maybe that’s why nobody did anything, a town full of people too used to uncomfortable silence.

Shaking off his thoughts and moving on, he was soon staring at the shiny chrome of the Justice League personal hallway and making a face in the reflection before he would finally be caught, or more likely, before they decided to catch him. Sure, he was an evil mastermind, but Lex was under no compunctions about the sneakiness inherent in speed walking.

Quickly smoothing his expression, Lex turned to face the Leaguer--Superman of all people. Humanoids. Whatever. He thought that if he turned back to the chrome walls, his face might show the disbelief he’d just dispelled.

“Ah, Kal,” he said, trying to bait him. This confrontation was inevitable, after all. It was better to get back to the script, before this… pity continued. “A wonderful place, really,” he continued, trying to sound as innocent as possible. “So much potential.” He glanced at one of the doors. “There are some pretty powerful artifacts around here, aren’t there? Although I’m sure they’re all locked up safely.”

But Superman didn’t even blink at his insinuations, only raising an eyebrow. No angry posturing, no crossed arms, not even a disappointed sigh. Lex felt off-balance, and glared at the Alien to hide it.

“Lex,” said Superman.

“What?”

“You’re in your hospital gown. I know you didn’t steal anything.”

Shit, Lex forgot about that, feeling vaguely humiliated. At least he was wearing something that covered what it needed to, but he’d walked through the Watchtower halls without a second thought to what he was wearing. The past week and the exhaustion could explain his forgetfulness, but suddenly fear seemed to grab him by the throat. What if she really did change him? Lex already felt like a broken robot toy, sparking from broken wires. Wrists.

He pointed a finger at Superman, accusing. “She mind-controlled me.”

Superman closed his eyes and breathed out his nose. “She wasn’t supposed to do that. I’m sorry.”

“She called it protocol.”

“Yes, if someone’s an immediate and lethal danger to others, or with explicit consent.”

Lex sighed. Superman was either a horrible liar or good at pretending, and it seemed like he was telling the truth. Lex didn’t feel like trying to parse it all; his headache was back, and underneath the bandages every breath still hurt.

“Why am I here, Superman? And I don’t mean in this hallway, I mean here, in the Watchtower. I basically own Metropolis General, Kal, it’s not like I’d be put on a waitlist.” Flinching as pain suddenly tore through his sides, Lex closed his eyes to fend off the memories associated with it. Knives, mostly.

“Protective custody,” said Superman, sounding worried. “Here, Lex, hold on to me. I’m bringing you back to your room.” His dignity was already gone, Lex supposed. “We wanted you somewhere safe as we rounded up the people responsible.”

“So I’m trapped here?”

“No,” said Superman, “you’re free to go. Anyone who hasn’t already been captured, Batman has an ID on. We think we have a clear suspect.”

“Who?”

“AmerTek, or at least the CEO. I… read an article on the company a while back; the whole company’s a funnel to the underworld.” Superman paused. “No offense.”

Lex rolled his eyes, ran the rest of the information through what he already knew, and cursed. “That’d be Jack Jorgens.” Janet’s sister, a symptom of nepotism in a family too stupid to pay their way out of prison. “A complete idiot. He proposed a merger, and I sent him out of my office. Laughing, probably. I wouldn’t work with Amertek if he begged me to and sold it on the penny. I guess he decided a hostile takeover might work better.”

“That’s basically what we gathered. But… there’s something more, isn’t there? To why you wouldn’t even own Amertek, I mean.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Lex sighed. “I know you don’t think the best of me, Superman.” Understatement of the century. “Your, ah, entrances into my labs have certainly made an impression on my scientists. But there are certain lines LexCorp will not cross. Amertek has crossed those lines. You’ve argued,” almost every time Lex saw him, “that LexCorp hurts people. But we’ve never hurt children.”

“Conner--”

“Conner wasn’t tortured!” shouted Lex, pulling away, feeling sick with rage. “He wasn’t sold off to the highest bidder, he wasn’t traded around like a pack of cards until his parents did what AmerTek wanted them to!”

Lex was shaking, from exhaustion or rage. He couldn’t tell. He didn’t even know he’d been shouting, but the walls and his ears were both ringing. Superman just stared at him before looking away, abashed.

“No. He wasn’t,” Superman finally said. Lex only closed his eyes, and leaned against the steadying alien arm Superman had tentatively put on his shoulder, too drained to argue and too unbalanced to pull away. “I’m sorry, Lex. That’s--that’s how AmerTek got people to cooperate?”

Lex ignored the apology, the sincerity cutting in a way any insult couldn’t. “When there aren’t any other options. I should’ve taken more precautions than I did, but…”

“But you think, ‘It hasn’t happened yet, who’s to say it could happen at all?’ You let down your guard, but suddenly… boom. All your power is useless, and for once in your life, nothing you can do outside of that room is going to save you.”

Lex gave Superman a sharp glance. “That’s exactly it.” And way too close to the truth for comfort. An uncomfortable thought started to coil in the back of his mind. Superman was only guessing, right? He was just extrapolating. Anything else was unacceptable. “How did you know?” Lex asked, studying his expression, hoping for a nonchalant shrug.

But his hope failed him as Superman looked down with shadowed eyes before looking up again, giving him a wry smile Lex couldn’t even begin to peel away the layers from. “Just a guess, Lex.”

And Lex felt uneasy, wanted to say something in turn, but as they turned the corner he saw the hospital wing again.

“We’re here,” said Superman, pulling away from Lex. The moment was gone.

“I actually do have to use the restroom,” said Lex. “I won’t leave this time.”

“Alright,” Superman said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, the conversation at the end kind of got away from me. Lex was actually supposed to be transferred to Met Gen by the end of this chapter, but fear not! Chapter 3 is already in the works. As always, thanks for reading!
> 
> [Discord](https://discord.gg/5Gmr8Uw) | [Tumblr](https://lexluthot.tumblr.com/)


	3. Metropolis: LexCorp Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lex finds his way back home. He knows he's not okay yet, but this is where he starts to get there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW. That took a while, but it's gaining some substance... I think? Also, I made a Clex [discord](https://discord.gg/5Gmr8Uw), so you guys should join it and harass me to make another chapter!

When Lex returned, Superman was sitting on a hospital chair. It was almost funny how he dwarved it, his hands on his knees and red fabric bunching where it hit the floor. Almost, except for the way he was looking at the floor with an annoyingly guilty expression.

“You aren’t comfortable here,” said Superman.

Lex rolled his eyes, not bothering to compensate for the alien’s latest ‘woe is me’ pityfest. “What gave it away?”

“We just needed to keep you safe until we found the attackers, and run some scans--”

“--to make sure I’m not plotting anything, right?” he snapped. Damn, he didn’t mean to say that.

Superman flinched. “We didn’t do that, Lex. We wouldn’t.”

Lex sighed, suddenly unable to deal with the alien’s guilt. “I know.”

Superman only gave him a pathetic smile and an awkward silence descended upon them. When it appeared that Superman was having trouble finding words, Lex rolled his eyes.

“I’m sure you came in here for another reason…?”

Looking startled, Superman cleared his throat. “Ah, yes. You’re, uh, free to go. When you want to. We can teleport to Metropolis, and I can drop you off at MetGen, or you can drive, if you don’t want me around…”

Lex didn’t look Superman in the eye. “I’d prefer that. I don’t… think I have much around here to bring with me. Actually…” he looked down at his hand. “I think I left something behind. Could you lend me a hand in finding it?” Superman just stared. “That was a joke.” One he didn’t plan on making.

“I know, Lex.” The alien paused. “Do you want to go now, or wait until later?”

“Now, I think. This is hardly the last time I’ll be up here, I believe.”

 

* * *

 

Lex flexed the hand they’d given him. Not too bad, indeed. LexCorp was top of the line when it came to sensory recreation--although with that technology came a calibration period--and if he wanted it to, he could make the covering realistic enough that nobody would ask questions. That is, no one with any particular desire to live.

No, Lex wouldn’t _kill_ anybody over it, but a reputation was always a good thing to have.

So was money, Lex reflected, as he looked over the Metropolis skyline, and although it was certainly good for getting a comfortable hospital stay, it was even better for convincing them to let him return to his penthouse where he belonged. The doctors had worried, but Lex hated hospitals in a way no down blankets could change. And somehow, despite Lex knowing just how much each doctor at MetGen would cost, despite it being on the planet with his City all around it, and despite a clearly un-hippocratic use of mind-reading (which Lex considered all psychic control to be), the hospital felt more confining than the Justice League’s castle in the air.

Metropolis dragged him back into reality, forcing him to address the millions of fears and concerns vying for his attention, every voice or twitch calling itself a danger. Lex hated himself for it, but he’d wanted to leave the whole thing behind him, and barring that he wanted his own bed.

But even sleeping would have to wait; the only thing that came between LexCorp and sleeps was “never”. He was on more than a week of backlog, and while the shareholders would certainly express sympathy over Lex’s situation, if he didn’t prove that he was still in fighting form, confidence--and stocks--would plummet.

LexCorp could only dubiously called his “pride and joy”; after all, Lex knew firsthand how much he’d done on his path to success wasn’t something to be “proud” of, and “joy” was, all things considered, for other people (but Joy worked down in Robotics). His company was his lifeblood, and though he was sure other things used to run through his veins he couldn’t quite remember what.

Lex pulled out his laptop. He’d bled, sure, but he’d be damned before he let this setback bleed him dry, and even though he ached to the bone and his left hand was stiff in a way no flesh hand could be he would sit down and finally get some work done.

 

* * *

 

Lex looked up at a tapping on the window to see darkness. Damn, it was already past sunset. Rubbing his eyes with his right hand, because the prosthetic still gave him the creeps, Lex looked through the window to see a glimpse of blue and red, floating in the wind. Of course, it was the alien, no one else even had _access_ to the window, but shouldn’t he have been--? Lex looked over at the proximity alarm, flashing red. Oh. His work provided a convenient distraction, but apparently that convenience had its price.

Pushing himself out of his chair, Lex internally swore again. His vision went black, and suppressed hunger began to gnaw at his stomach. Walking over to the window, Lex realized with exhausted clarity that he didn’t want to have this confrontation. He hadn’t even expected to be accused of anything this close to his return, but Lex supposed hoping that the brief calm in the watchtower would have any meaning was like hoping the world would stop spinning. He could try, he could even change himself, make a machine to stop the Earth in its tracks, but Lex knew, at heart, that path only held Quixotic fools.

“Superman,” said Lex, and was mildly surprised when the alien only tapped on the window again instead of breaking it down like he did before.

Deciding to get it over with, Lex opened the door to the balcony (of which all floors Lex worked on conveniently had. Someone with no sense of self-preservation might presume that this was for Superman’s sake, but Lex was simply a staunch believer in making throwing him out of the window as difficult as possible).

But Superman didn’t open with an accusation or even a glare, instead simply hovering outside, almost awkwardly. Lex blinked; “Superman” and “awkward” didn’t seem right at all, and for a second the stern expression and impersonality Superman usually wore seemed like only a flimsy facade.

“Um,” said Superman, and the moment passed. Noticing the man’s reluctance to step inside--or even step on the patio, which was probably smart, given the tower’s history of pressure traps--Lex took pity on him and stepped outside, which incidentally gave him a better view of what was happening, proximity cutting through the darkness.

And, apparently, a better view of what he was holding, which looked like two styrofoam cups with plastic lids on.

“Lex?” asked Superman, interrupting his reverie. “Are you alright?”

_Great,_ thought Lex, _he’s turned into the pity party._ Not answering fast enough, Superman looked over Lex’s shoulder, saw the desk and computer past the lead-infused windows, and glared. Finally, a familiar expression.

“You were working,” Superman accused. “You were supposed to be resting for at least a _week_!”

Lex rolled his eyes. Of all the things… “Hostile takeovers wait for no one, Superman, and the sharks are circling. They smell blood. I’m not giving it to them.”

Superman opened his mouth to speak, paused, and then looked as if he were in thought. “Why… why would they attempt anything now, instead of while you were gone?”

Lex raised his eyebrows at Superman, who rarely talked business, instead simply assuming the worst. Admittedly, he’d used business practices as an excuse for “unethical behavior,” but nonetheless. “Public image,” said Lex. “It’s good business practice to shed a few tears over a missing CEO, and attempting a hostile takeover at the same time is in bad taste. But after I’m back it’s easy to say they’re ‘concerned about how I’m coping,’ and use any sign of incompetence to decrease confidence.”

“Oh. ...I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I know the game because I’ve played it, Superman. I don’t want your pity.”

“...Oh.” Superman shuffled his feet, and Lex was struck once again by the image. “I don’t _pity_ you, Lex. I never have. Um, I actually came here because I have something for you.”

The change in subject was anything but graceful but Lex, grateful, let it slide. “What in the world,” said Lex, “could you have possibly given me? Another arrest warrant? For the record, just because I was missing doesn’t mean my lawyers are gone.” They were paid too well, and scared too successfully, to do that without at least shooting him an email.

But instead of hitting him with another crimination, Superman only gave him a hesitant smile and a styrofoam cup. Lex took it.

“What. Is this?”

Superman blinked, and then gave him a deadpan stare. “It’s a cup, Lex.”

Lex glared. “I _mean_ , what’s in the damn thing!”

God, the bastard was laughing at him, wasn’t he? “Oh,” said Superman, “it’s from a shop I really like, it’s this sort of hot chocolate, with these spices, and they use actual chocolate too, the place is actually in Metropolis but the drink is called Mexican hot chocolate--”

“--And why am I holding it?”

“...So you can drink it? I did buy it for you, you know. I have my own right here,” said Superman, lifting up the cup he was still holding. “Anyways, I um, thought you might like it.”

Lex made a face at the innocent looking cup. He could feel the warmth of the cocoa through the styrofoam, and it felt strangely comforting. “It’s probably poisoned,” he said.

“I can take a sip first, to prove it’s safe?” said Superman.

Lex stared. Blinked. Stared some more. “You’re _invulnerable!_ ” he spluttered.

Superman paused, thinking over the words before bursting out laughing and shooting Lex a bright smile, so different from his usual stern expression.

“Don’t worry, I know that poisoning a drink is just gauche,” said Lex, carefully holding up the cup to take a sip, and--moaned, but god he hadn’t eaten all day and the drink tasted _heavenly._ Lifting the cup Lex took another sip, delighting in the rich spiced chocolate as he swallowed. As Lex cradled the cup against his chest the warmth of the drink spread through his throat and stomach, chasing away the chill that ran through Lex’s bones for the first time he could remember.

Looking over to ask Superman where he bought the drink, Lex saw Superman startle and hastily turn away from him almost guiltily, his cheeks stained light pink. Intellectually, Lex knew that he should have been paranoid, but he felt strangely at peace, instead quietly stepping out onto the balcony to join the spandex-clad man. Superman stood next to him, and the god figure, the stern and angry enemy, fell away as Lex looked down at the twinkling city below him. He’d compartmentalized his life, dealing with the hopelessness of his battle with the bone-deep knowledge that he would only ever be a miscreant in the alien’s eyes.

But he wasn’t that man tonight, standing next to Lex as he studied his city below him. The millions of them, living their lives, sleeping safely or in fear. And for a second he felt endlessly and hopelessly separate from himself, and the world turned into a monstrous puppet show he saw himself unfeelingly perform until his death in a lonely room, the freezing wasteland enveloping him as the world still turned.

Lex drew in a sharp breath, blinking until it became only a memory, but he felt himself shivering. This reaction was--new. Superman--his most hated enemy, the only kind part of Lex’s life--gave him a concerned look. “Lex,” he asked and gods help him but the concern threaded through his voice was real in a way that tingled, that hurt, like coming home after a long winter. “Are you alright? You’re shaking.”

“I’m just cold,” said Lex, closing his eyes.

“Oh, okay,” said the voice beside him, and Lex opened his eyes when he felt a hand on his shoulder, draping red fabric around him. Lex wanted to fight back against whatever pity the alien was giving him, but as he stared tired over the city he only held the fabric in his false hand and brought it tighter against his chest in a warm cloak.

 

* * *

 

The chocolate residue at the bottom of the cup came into focus as Lex squinted the sleep out of his eyes. He was sorry to see the last of it go. As far as he could tell Superman hadn’t slipped him any narcotics, but he could already feel the pull to have more. Addicting, too, was staring at the end of his drink without the cold desolation of reaching the bottom of a liquor bottle. Lex had excised guilt from his soul years ago, but its neighbors had become permanent residents. Finishing a drink without being haunted by the face of his father was a rare occurrence, and Lex grabbed at it while knowing it couldn’t last.

Damn, the cup was out of focus again.

Gentle footsteps padded behind him, and Lex’s mind wondered why Kal hadn’t flown instead, either all the way to him or miles and miles away, before his train of thought was interrupted with a hand brushing his shoulder.

“Lex,” said Superman, “you’re falling asleep. Let me bring you inside, you should be in bed.”

A jolt of discomfort hit Lex at the thought of being back inside, and he forced himself not to scan the balcony, the door, the room for threats. Paranoia only sowed more fear, he told himself, and any weakness of his would be unseemly at best and financially disastrous at worst. Tired, Lex hid his disquiet the only way he could think of, smirking and saying, “Taking me to bed, are you, Kal? After only one date, no less.”

The minute Lex stopped speaking his brain caught up with his words and he realized how foolish he had sounded. Worse, he was Superman’s enemy, and it was so easy to kill a missing man without consequences. Implication certainly was an entertainment at society galas, but none of the people he usually spoke to had the ability to snap his neck if he disgusted them. But when Lex warily turned to the alien to judge his reaction, Superman was only giving him a smile a lesser, naive man would have called fond. When he put a hand on his shoulder, Lex didn’t even glare.

Lex let himself be led into the penthouse, tired to his soul. He should have been furious with the alien for the coddling and should have hated himself for needing it, but Lex was breaking apart at the seams just to keep on going, and he didn’t want to see what would happen if he added fuel to the fire.

And the rage he always carried with him _was_ a fuel, the thing that kept him moving when the winter wanted to overwhelm him. Once, before he fired her, a life coach had told him his anger was unhealthy, mentioning something about his father Lex took the night trying to forget. She said he needed someone else to survive, and for a moment the fire was blown out and Lex saw himself in the middle of the tundra, perpetually alone. She was let go for incompetence; anyone truly worth such a paycheck would have known he didn’t have the luxury of trust.

But the cape wrapped around his shoulders and the memory of hot chocolate kept him warm as Superman--Superman!--brought him inside and poked around the rooms.

The alien in question interrupted his sleepy reverie, poking his head around the corner. “...Lex, where do you keep your pajamas?”

Lex gave him an incredulous look. That completely ruined the atmosphere of his personal monologue. Despite himself, Lex couldn’t quite hold on to the misery. “You have super-vision and you can’t find pajamas?”

“Your dressers are lined with lead, Lex.”

Oh, right. That had been a bad year. Lex sighed, trying to visualize his bedroom. “The top right drawer below the closet area in the armoire in the master suite.” Damn, that was a mouthful. “And for god’s sake, you haven’t gone around blindly opening _lead drawers_ in my _penthouse,_ have you?”

Superman gave him an odd but not unpleasant look, like Lex had surprised him in a good way. “I didn’t, actually.” Lex gave him a look. “No, seriously. I figured you wanted your privacy, all things considered.”

“Since when was personal privacy a concern of yours, Superman?”

Superman gave him a solemn look. “It always has been, Lex, but I’m always going to put people’s lives first. You know this.”

Lex didn’t reply. Kal was wrong, or maybe he wasn’t, and Lex didn’t want to think. Glancing to his left when he felt the air blow around him, Lex saw Superman standing in the same spot but holding a pair of soft, brushed cotton pajamas.

“I could’ve sworn those were at the _very_ bottom of the drawer.”

“They were,” said Kal. “But they seemed to be the most comfortable. Also,” and here Superman gestured to the shirt buttons, “it’s a snap-on, for some reason, which means putting it on and off won’t be too uncomfortable. Pulling on shirts can hurt like a trucker when you have stitches.”

Lex snorted at the creative swearing and arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you had experience with chest wounds.”

Superman looked away. “I can be injured, you know.”

“Well, of course.” Lex furrowed his brow. “I think I’ve fought you enough to draw blood, but I’ve never gone for the chest.” Well, he _had,_ but not enough to cause the damage Superman was suggesting. Picturing it, he felt inexplicably uncomfortable.

“No,” said Superman, still looking away. He was avoiding the question, Lex realized. “You weren’t the one who caused it. Anyways, uh, here are your pajamas, Lex. I won’t force you to go to bed, but it’s getting pretty late.”

Lex sighed. “You’re not going to leave until I’m in those pajamas, are you.”

Superman pretended to think. “Nope,” he finally said. “I won’t rest until I see you in plaid PJs.” Despite himself, Lex laughed.

“Alright then,” he said imperiously, albeit tiredly as the long day soaked into his voice, and grabbed the soft clothes from Superman’s arms. “I’ll be back. Don’t look.”

“Lex, this building has enough lead to rival a vintage paint factory.”

“Hm. Pity.”

 

* * *

 

Lex scrubbed a hand over his face, studying himself in the mirror. He’d avoided looking at any of them hanging in the bathroom as he changed, not wanting to see the bruises and bandages lining his body, but as he finally looked he saw a gauntness the suit had hid. Bruises climbed their way up his neck and his eyes were red-lined and underscored with splashes of purple.

He had brushed his teeth, although it had been difficult. His prosthetic was still missing some of the finer controls, causing Lex to cringe as he clumsily jerked the brush over his teeth and gums. His damn hands, right or left, wouldn’t stop shaking, and at one point Lex almost dropped the toothbrush. Lex had sneered at himself in the mirror, not bothering to hide his disgust. It wasn’t like anyone else would see it.

God, he was a wreck, in body and in mind. He couldn’t seem to control his words, and his emotions felt sapped from his body. He should have been storming in rage at Superman’s presumptuousness, should have kept his guard up, but Lex couldn’t seem to find the energy.

No kindness lasted forever, and Lex knew that this tolerance Superman had for him was only temporary, peace belying war. But the pajamas really were soft, even though they unfashionable green plaid, and he was right about the snap on buttons, somehow--the stitches and bruises pulled at his skin, and being able to keep his arms low was a small mercy. Lex had learned to be alone at his father’s knee, but he thought he could learn to hold onto the warmth, even if only in his memories.

He really didn’t have anything else to do in the bathroom, so he took a few breaths and pushed himself off the counter, heading back outside. Lex picked up the cape, and felt himself smile as he wrapped it around his shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It'd be a bit cold to point out all the winter imagery!
> 
> [Discord](https://discord.gg/5Gmr8Uw) | [Tumblr](https://lexluthot.tumblr.com/)


	4. LexCorp Tower 2: The Electric Boogaloo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lex gets revenge-y, the plot moves forward a half-step, and takeout is consumed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw hell you guys I really don't have an excuse for how long this took. I was like "I'm gonna be faster!" and then shot for the Turtle of the Year title. But if you're reading this, thank you for sticking around!

Sunlight danced across Lex’s eyes as the world slowly drifted around him, his dreams softly stepping around his waking thoughts. His eyes were stuck together, but as he brought up his hand to rub away the sleep, his half-thoughts stuttered to a halt when he felt the cold metal of his hand, and his hand felt nothing at all. Well, that was certainly one way to ruin a good mood.

Lex sighed, pushing himself out of bed. Dammit, the sleep was the best he’d had in years but with the warmth of consciousness also came the sinking realization of how much he’d shirked his duties yesterday. Worse, he hadn’t meant to. Weaker men would say that fatigue excused it, but weaker men weren’t Lex Luthor. Nevertheless, with his newfound clarity of mind his agenda became even fuller. 

Yesterday, Lex had stopped the bleeding in these shark infested waters. Today, he hunted the bastards with his blood on their hands. Lex briefly entertained the thought of his hands around Jorgens’ neck and the life fading from his eyes; it would be so easy for Lex to snap his neck with his new hand so kindly provided to him. How ironic. 

Walking past the full-body length mirror at the door to the master bathroom, Lex pasted a smile onto his face. Jack had miscalculated. Lex had survived. And it was fitting, he thought, that his face didn’t have the fear of a surfer stranded at sea. His grin was a shark’s. 

* * *

 

Superman hadn’t stopped by that morning, and Lex forced himself not to be disappointed. He was an interfering alien menace, but as he got himself ready for the day ahead, Lex couldn’t help but feel alien himself, disconnected from everything around him. Everything familiar became strange, looming around him in impending danger. But that was okay; Lex had learned that expecting the world to be safe was naivety. 

The cape helped, annoyingly enough. Lex wanted to throw it to the ground in a fit of disgust, but his hands hadn’t wanted to cooperate. Of course, dragging Superman’s cape behind him to a board meeting like an oversized safety blanket would be corporate suicide, not to mention unpleasant on almost every level. But Lex wasn’t in public, or at least not this early in the day, so he could leave it draped on the bed or over his chair as much as he wanted to. Superman couldn’t leave the damn thing here forever, Lex told himself. Even if he did have spare capes, the material was Kryptonian, unlike anything Lex had ever seen.

Lex looked down at his hands, and realized he was rubbing the red fabric between his fingers again. Dammit. 

Letting the cape fall from his hand to drape elegantly on the bedspread, Lex pushed himself up from the bed he’d been sitting on to adjust his shoes. If he was going to be productive today, he had to stay grounded and in the moment. Ever since he’d come back, keeping a clear train of thought had been infuriatingly difficult, but Lex was able to steel himself for the day ahead as he looked back as he looked at the alien red fabric giving color to the modern, empty grays of his bedroom. 

 

* * *

 

Lex rubbed at his head, annoyed at the persistent migraine that only became worse the longer he stared at spreadsheets and correspondence on his too-bright computer. How the fuck had he thought he’d make it through today? Scowling, Lex went over AmerTek’s numbers for the eleventh time but what felt like the hundredth as patterns of expenditure, profits, and employees swam tauntingly just out of reach. Usually they clicked in place, strings of integers turning into bribes, threats, the slow reveal of who in the company truly held the strings and who had things to hide. 

His left hand lagged again, and Lex had to push down his impulse to snarl. This couldn’t be the best his scientists had to offer, this human-made alien attachment, this mockery of something he couldn’t ever regain.

The worst part was the surprise--he had no contingencies, no warning before his plans were shattered, and now he didn’t even have the well-worn comfort of familiar ambitions as he pulled himself up again. A self-made phoenix, standing in the dust. Alive, and burning for it. 

...And burned for it, if the third-degrees across his body were any indication, but the present tense was relatively accurate in describing the way they still hurt like a bitch. And as damn annoying as they were, the prosthetic offsets probably didn’t count as burning, being a mechanical… error…

Years and years ago, before Lex could fathom what his life has become, his father had tried to beat his tendency towards robotics out of him. He’d failed, of course. Organics could be made and remade with a good enough surgeon, but Lex knew circuit boards and fibercord like the back of his prosthetic hand.

 

* * *

 

Lex Luthor felt like he could breathe for the first time as he rode the elevator upwards from his Metropolis workshop. Taking apart a hand while it was attached to him was surreal, but even though he was forced to use his non-dominant right hand, mapping the metal and wires was a cooling salve over the day’s tension. His hand still seemed surreal, but at least when Lex looked at it he felt it was at least somewhat his. Now, when he saw it move, he saw the way he’d put it back together in the lab and the strange became familiar.

Good. He couldn’t afford that vulnerability.

That wasn’t to say that when he saw the matte black metal he didn’t-- Lex pushed that away. 

Revenge.

Right.

Lex Luthor was a competitive man. He always had been, since he was young and snarling against a world that tried everything it could to beat him down, to tell him he wasn’t worth saving. But if there was one thing he never planned on losing at, it was corporate ethics. Somehow, AmerTek had come out in first place, which was… annoying. After all, he’d already carved out quite the niche for himself as the caricature of corporate corruption, and just because he was a total bastard didn’t mean he was prepared for someone else to join him.

In his own city, no less! Metropolis!

And they didn’t even have the decency to act with style. Blatant kidnapping and torture was already plain lazy, but now that Lex had some time to clear his head he saw why the paperwork was so frustrating to look through. They weren’t covering anything up, Lex was just too used to accountants who were… competent.

God, no wonder these idiots had to resort to brute force. Oh well, the worse for them.

Lex had work to do.

 

* * *

 

It was dark again when he looked out the window, which didn’t surprise Lex at all. He’d gotten a lot of work done on the AmerTek plan, weaseling out weak links and guilty parties from the information his admin assistants had… extrajudicially procured. When he became frustrated with that he worked on damage control after his disappearance, and though it wasn’t on the agenda today, he was making progress. Surface progress, at least; superficial praise and support was easy to garner, but there was no shortcut for truly reestablishing corporate confidence. His biggest concern was making sure that in the interim, his stockholders weren’t bought from under him.

That probably shouldn’t be an issue, considering the blackmail he had, but it would never do to become complacent.

When doing either was more of a nuisance than it was worth, Lex fiddled with his prosthetic. He was loathe to encourage a new nervous tic, but maybe watching Lex rewire his hand during a business meeting would throw the competition off enough to make up for it.

Cycling through those three options Lex had marched steadily through the day, only taking note of the time when the stock market closed and he had to go through the numbers. (Three points up, probably going to drift downward by tomorrow morning but still higher than today. Good.) Now, with pieces of every AmerTek secret spread out before him Lex had been digging through the reports pretty steadily, working himself into almost a trance as corporate espionage danced behind his eyes. He hadn’t eaten, and he half-remembered something Mercy said about going to pick up late-night chinese.

Lex knew himself, and wasn’t so far gone to forget the time. So looking out at a night sky was no surprise.

But the hovering figure--Superman, hopefully--was. It was the right build, the right judgy hover, the right silhouette--nope, whoever it was was carrying something like a sack of potatoes.

What.

Lex turned to his screen and pulled up the security visual. From Superman’s arms, Mercy Graves was staring mutinously back at him, two bags of takeout held in her arms.

...What?

He walked over to the overhang doors, eyebrows climbing as he got closer. As he opened the door Lex said, “Et tu, Brute? And here I thought I paid so well.

Mercy turned her glare from Lex to Superman before scowling and punching the alien; as she was finally lowered onto the ground, she said, “Flyboy here decided to give me a lift on the way back. And since you brought it up, I want more vacation pay.”

“You didn’t just shoot him?” asked Lex, ignoring the second part. Neither of them knew what to do with themselves on vacation.

“HR said no. PR said I had to talk to them first.”

Lex snorted. Superman just looked bemused. “So, you decided to stop by again?” asked Lex as Mercy brushed herself off and walked away, presumably to do something with the food.

“Yeah, I, uh…” Superman was stumbling again, which was kind of adorable but mostly plain strange--after all, the alien was usually so composed during their fights. Then again, their fights had become script. Like actors. And Lex had the feeling that the man awkwardly trying to explain why he was at his enemy’s office was the man pulling the strings. Shaking himself out of his unprompted reverie, Lex instead addressed the most pressing issue: secondhand embarrassment. 

“You’re here to pick up your cape, I’m sure.” He said.

“YES! Yes. I’m here for my cape. Because I forgot it. And I’m… washing the other ones.”

Lex looked pointedly at the red cape currently billowing behind him.

“ _ Most _ of the other ones. Oh! I have something else, let me just go and--” Superman disappeared and reappeared a half-second later with two disposable coffee cups. “--grab it.”

“That better be what I hope it is,” said Lex. “But a bit cruel, don’t you think, not to buy one for Mercy?” Kal’s eyes widened but as he opened his mouth to say something Lex interrupted, “Don’t bother being a goody-two shoes. She’d probably say it’s poisoned, anyways.” Lex moved forward to take the cup of hot chocolate (which smelled blissful) and then paused, considering. “I suppose you’ve done us a favor, although Mercy might not see it as such. You’ve also brought me a drink, still warm.” Lex paused for dramatic, or as dramatic as the situation allowed, effect. “Come on, we’re eating inside.”

When Superman paused, Lex said, “Don’t worry, all the confidential stuff’s put away.” Shit, except for the AmerTek reports, which were the very image of classified. Oh well, he had a good poker face, and it’s not like Superman covered the business section on the regular--now, if Kent and Lane were in his office he’d have a reason to fret.

Superman finally set foot on the balcony, and Lex smugly led him inside.

 

* * *

 

When they walked through the door Mercy barely looked surprised, only narrowing her eyes in suspicion before minutely relaxing. Of course, Lex had yet to see her stoic expression break when she didn’t want it to. (Except, perhaps, when he’d returned from his… educational week in torture, but everything about that was better left unthought about.) 

As Mercy pulled out a paper plate for Superman and started scooping fried rice and stir fry onto it, Lex reflected how strange the situation was. He really had no idea why he’d invited Superman inside to eat with them; Lex only knew that he felt bored and disconnected from the world and wanted to see something new. So now he and Mercy were eating inexpensive takeout like they usually did when he stayed too late, sitting on the floor of his office because he didn’t believe in having more than one chair, with a super-powered alien in a costume that, for a moment, looked like pajamas he’d put on for a sleepover.

Lex chuckled at the image of the three of them sitting inside a pillow fort during a sleepover, like their childhoods were good. Oh, he was definitely sleep deprived, but he supposed he had the right to be, and maybe that was why he couldn’t bring himself to care about the odd picture they made. 

Anyways, he thought as he studied the cocoa’s spices before taking a sip, the Mexican hot chocolate Superman bought again was delicious, and it was always nice to enjoy good food with company.

The day’s exhaustion really must have been getting to him--Lex couldn’t summon any of the anger he usually felt against the alien, and the very thought of going through the motions seemed like a hassle. They could be enemies some other time.

Hopefully after Lex got some sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had to ctrl+f the entire fic on ao3 to make sure Lex didn't know Clark and Superman were the same person. I hope none of you guys think I'm an actual writer because my outline is staring very very judgmentally as I fly by the seat of my pants.
> 
> I do live in a fantasy land where Lex and Mercy eat Chinese food on the floor. There might be some projection involved. We all have our flaws.
> 
> Come harass me on my Clex [Discord server](https://discord.gg/5Gmr8Uw) or on [my Tumblr](https://lexluthot.tumblr.com/) :D

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm not sure when the next update will be, but I know for sure I'm going to continue this, hopefully until the bitter(not in-fic!) end.


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